


Just in time for Valentines'

by magumarashi



Series: Lacewood drabbles [6]
Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: Serena and the professor get a little, ah,friskyin the privacy of his office.





	Just in time for Valentines'

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating note: Serena has been aged up to 19.**

There had been plenty of occasions in which the professor had _her_ bent over his desk, but this… this was a first.

He must have been quite a sight: shirt unbuttoned almost entirely, neck and chest covered in bruises–marks of affection rather than aggression, or perhaps a little of both–with a flushed face and messier hair than usual. His pants and boxers lay in a heap at his feet, forgotten, utterly, in the heat of the moment. And now here he was, bent over his own desk at his lover’s request. He rested his forearms on the cold mahogany, trying to ignore the touch of the wood on his bare hips in favor of her warm body leaning against his.

“Are you comfortable like that?” Serena’s voice came floating to his ears from behind. He smiled. Even though she’d asked him to do it, she couldn’t help but be concerned about him. That was so like her.

“Well,” he said, “It’s not quite as comfortable as a bed… but it will do.”

“Let me know if you ever get tired of it.”

“I will,” said the professor, though truthfully his thoughts were somewhat clouded. He agreed for the sake of letting her know he’d heard her, and not because he could see far enough ahead to think about what they’d do if he couldn’t stand anymore. The only thing he was conscious of was the sensation of her hands on his waist, on his–!

“Ah!”

He couldn’t help but inhale sharply as she grasped it, giving it a little squeeze…!

“Which hand do you usually use?” asked Serena quietly, bending closer to his back.

“L-left,” said the professor, though he wasn’t sure what it would have mattered. He didn’t care which hand, as long as it was hers…! 

Smiling even though she knew he couldn’t see her, Serena switched hands before setting to work. She started out slowly, stroking him gently from base to the tip. She’s so damnably _thorough_ , he thought to himself with what was left of his ability to think, but even those thoughts quickly dissolved with the rhythm of her hand. Within a few minutes, only the basest desires remained in his mind.

_Harder._

_Faster._

_More._

He was not above begging at this point; it was beyond him to find a more subtle way to make his desires known. To hell with it all.

“More…!”

_Always more._

Serena giggled just listening to him.

“You’re really worked up, aren’t you?” she said, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. He couldn’t pull a witty remark from his clouded brain any more than he could make his lips form the words, so a breathy “y-yes” had to suffice. His response made her giggle again.

“Need to catch your breath?”

“No…” said the professor, “ _Mon dieu,_ Serena, don’t stop…”

She lifted his shirt and planted a light kiss on his back. He shivered in excitement, a moan escaping his throat. The sound seemed to incense her; she began to move her hand more quickly, much to his delight.

“Ohhh… oh…!”

He felt the strength leaving his arms and neck even as he felt himself stiffening further elsewhere. He lay his head down on the desk, arms shaking. He felt as though his knees might soon give out in succession.

“Serena…” he said breathlessly, “I can’t… hold myself up like this any longer.”

“Oh?” Serena moved her hand and gave his waist a meaning squeeze, “What should we do?”

Sycamore couldn’t find the coherence to provide an answer; the only thought in his mind was the question of why Serena had stopped.

“Can you climb up on the desk?” she asked.

“I… I think so…”

Sycamore gathered what was left of the strength in his legs and hoisted himself onto the desk, scattering papers in his wake. Serena hopped up onto the desk and sat next to him, wincing a little at the cold wood’s touch on her thighs. He looked at her with such unabashed desire in his eyes that she almost burst out laughing–not that it was funny, but she was somehow amused that she’d managed to work him to such a desperate state.

She delicately wrapped her fingers around the head of his cock. The professor gasped sharply.

“There!!” he said, “Right there…!”

“Here…?” said Serena playfully. She squeezed it gently, rubbing her thumb over the tip.

“Yes–! Oh, please…!!”

He could hardly stand it; his heart pounding in his chest, the feeling that he was completely, utterly at her command. His head felt light. He wanted so dearly to _have_ her right there on his desk, but with equal vigor wanted her to do with him as she pleased. It didn’t matter how or what she did, as long as she didn’t stop until he was through. And the suspense of not knowing her next move aroused him all the more.

She had him wrapped around her finger, even with her fingers wrapped around him.

Serena quickened the pace of her back and forth massage, and it was all the professor could do to contain a moan.

“Serena…!” 

“Yes?”

The professor hadn’t expected her to answer his call; he now struggled with something to say.

“Fas… faster…!” even as he said it, he was beginning to struggle with the words. Serena smiled before moving her hand even more quickly; “Yes, just–like that–oh!”

He didn’t think it was possible for his breathing to become more labored, but in the midst of his ecstasy he had to work for each breath. He no longer cared about being heard, being caught moaning and gasping in so _shameless_ a position as this. She had him panting like a dog, whimpering, _begging_ for more, and it was beyond him to summon a care for anything else.

“ _Mon dieu_ …!”

Serena smiled.

“Good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” his breathless reply, “ _Ma bichette_ , don’t stop!”

“I won’t stop until you tell me to.”

“Oh…!”

He turned his gaze to her, but he couldn’t quite get his eyes to focus. She kept her eyes on him as well, even as she worked–caring, affectionate, perhaps even a bit aroused herself. Those are the sorts of things he could discern, or thought he could discern. Even if he wasn’t wrong, he could barely trust his own senses; not when they were all so busy at the moment.

Just the sight of her gazing at him like that… ah, he could go on staring at her forever.

Suddenly he shut his eyes, his body jerked.

“I’m…! I’m co–!”

“Coming?” asked Serena, just the slightest hint of alarm in her voice. She glanced around the room for any sign of a tissue box–none within immediate reach. At that moment the professor could contain himself no longer; he came messily all over her hand before collapsing backwards on the desk. Serena froze; the warm, sticky stuff oozing down her fingers. A chill ran down her spine.

“Ah…” she said, trying so hard not to say something more along the lines of ‘ew’. There was nothing inherently wrong with it, but Serena had never quite been fond of sticky substances…

Meanwhile, the professor seemed to have caught his breath. With difficulty he sat up and, noticing the mess he’d made, flushed even more brightly.

“Oops… I should have warned you sooner…” he said, “I’m sorry, I’ll–!”

“N-no, it’s okay!” said Serena quickly. She removed her hand, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just get a tissue.”

She would get over the texture soon enough, anyway.

“Besides…” she said, “It’s _yours_ , so… I guess don’t mind so much.”

The professor gasped lightly.

“Oh… oh!!”

He took Serena in his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“P-professor! It’ll get on my clothes–!”

“It’ll wash out, don’t fret!”

“Can I at least get the both of us wiped off first?”

But Sycamore only laughed and buried his face into her shoulder.

“Ah, _mon coeur,_ can’t we cuddle for a bit…?”

“Not with this stuff on my hand!! Augustine–!”

He released her, smile unwavering, and opened one of his desk drawers. From there he procured a pack of pocket tissues, the wrapper decorated with a Cubchoo pattern. She hastily took one and wiped off her hand as thoroughly as she could. Sycamore cleaned himself up in turn, and helped her remove some of the semen that had wandered onto her skirt. She wasn’t entirely convinced it wouldn’t stain, but decided to defer to him on it anyway; after all, he probably had more experience with these things. Once both of them were satisfactorily clean, Serena handed the professor his boxers and pants.

“And now, we cuddle,” said Sycamore, taking her hand in his. Serena giggled.

“Lead the way.”

There wasn’t much of a place to sit down in his office, but if they were to leave with such rumpled clothes and flushed faces, people would certainly notice. Sycamore therefore sat down on the floor near the window, and patted the space next to him. Serena followed, gathering her skirt slightly as she sat. He took her hands in his, and she leaned on his shoulder.

“It’s not quite the luxury of a bed, but… we can make do, I suppose.”

“We’ve been making do all afternoon, really,” said Serena.

“Hmm,” said the professor, “Making do for making love. It has a nice ring to it.”

“You–!”

The two of them laughed.

“Next time, though,” said Serena, “Next time you need me to get you off, can it wait until we’re at your place?”

The professor nodded emphatically.

“Please, by all means,” he said, “My desk was… In theory, arousing. In practice, somewhat uncomfortable.”

“Now you know how _I’ve_ felt all those times,” said Serena, “Not that I particularly _mind_ bending over things for you, but… wood is cold, you know?”

Though the professor’s face had been steadily returning to normal, it turned a renewed shade of fuchsia.

“Ah… yes, I will… keep that in mind…”


End file.
